


5 Times Tony Thought Peter Was In Trouble

by JBS_Forever



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Humor, do people still read 5+1 fics?, here's to hoping they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBS_Forever/pseuds/JBS_Forever
Summary: And the one time Peter actually was.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 556





	5 Times Tony Thought Peter Was In Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I wrote this thing two years ago, so the overused tropes are _hot_. I'm reuploading it again now because it has Christmas and New Year's Eve in it and I wanted to put out some festive stories. 
> 
> **Warning for panic attacks and depression (though both are pretty mild, I think). Please let me know if I should tag anything else. <3 **
> 
> .

_1._

Tony is wrist deep in a new prototype of his suit when his phone starts ringing on the table next to him. He frees one hand long enough to tap on his earpiece before diving back in again.

“Stark's Personal Delivery Service,” he says. “If we're not there in thirty minutes or less, it's probably because we don't deliver.”

There's silence a long moment before he's met with a pubescent voice that doesn't belong to the only pubescent person he knows. “Mr. Stark?”

“That's me. Who is this?”

“My name is Ned. I'm an associate of Peter's,” the kid says, in what Tony assumes is his attempt at the most professional tone he can manage. “Peter Parker.”

Tony rips a wire out of its compartment and examines the end of it. He doesn't have time for this. “I know who you are.”

“You do?”

“I make it a habit to know everyone who hacks into my stuff. What do you want, Ted?”

“Uh, I was wondering if maybe Peter was with you? It's just, he hasn't been answering his phone and May said – uh, May is his aunt. Wait, you probably knew that. Did you know that? Of course you did, you're Tony Stark. Anyway, she said he left this morning and hasn't been back yet and she thought he was with me but he's not and I thought maybe he was with you?”

Tony pauses at this. He hasn't seen Peter since last week when he came by to train with Natasha and he'd spent a solid two minutes talking Tony's ear off about the techniques he learned and the punch he'd taken to the stomach and _oh my god, Mr. Stark, Black Widow._

“Are you sure he's not just ignoring you? Maybe you hurt his feelings. Who am I to judge?” Tony says, but he's already untangling himself from the suit and pulling up a new screen on his monitor.

“He won't answer May either,” Ned says. “He's not with you?”

“I'm not secretly hiding him, if that's what you're accusing. Your friend break-up isn't really my thing. But I'll keep an eye out for him.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I'll call you again if I hear anything.”

Tony hangs up and immediately calls Peter himself. He's met with a pre-recorded voice telling him to leave a message. He doesn't. He pulls up the tracker inside the suit instead and sees that the kid is in Queens, his location bouncing around all over the place.

So, okay, clearly Peter is not dead, just isn't answering anyone. Tony is not about to commit himself to the drama of a fifteen-year-old – he's had enough of his own soap opera life to tide himself over for the rest of eternity – but he's just on the edge of being concerned enough to make sure it's _actually_ Peter in the suit and not someone who hijacked it. The radio silence is a little worrisome for someone as vocal as Peter is. Besides, Tony has to head to Brooklyn anyway at some point to see a new job site they're working on. He might as well combine trips and check things out. Just to be sure.

The decision makes itself. He gives Pepper a quick kiss, picks one of his more flamboyant cars, and is in Queens within twenty minutes, pulling up to the curb in front of an alley where the tracking system has placed Peter for the time being. Tony does a quick scan of the area and twists the bracelet on his arm, getting ready to bring his Iron friend out if needed.

He hears Peter's voice before he even makes the sidewalk. A yell follows. Something breaks. Tony steps into the alley, opening his mouth to call for the kid, but stops short when he sees that Peter is actively engaged in hand-to-hand combat with some guy dressed in a big sweatshirt and baggy jeans. It's no contest, really. The guy is already unsteady on his feet like he took one too many shots of vodka and Peter is dodging his blows so easily that if Tony didn't already know it was him and not someone pretending to be him, he would now.

“This is just not impressive at all,” Peter says. “When you said you were gonna 'show me,' I thought you'd at least dazzle me with some cool karate moves or something. This is just sad.”

The guy swings at him and Peter catches his fist. Despite himself, Tony decides not to intervene. Peter is clearly holding his own, and he doesn't look hurt or injured in any way, so Tony hovers by the wall, watching on in amusement. 

“Dude, just stop. You're embarrassing yourself.”

Tony hasn't seen Peter in a fight since Germany, so he's forgotten how much the kid talks when he's in one. Jeez, Tony thought _he_ was bad. Peter is a full on motor-mouth. 

"Eat me." The drunk guy _hisses_ , like a wild animal being held captive. Then he locks eyes with Tony and squints in surprise. “Tony Stark?"

Tony brings a finger to his lips and flashes his eyebrows. 

“Nice try,” Peter says. It must be enough to distract him though, because the guy gets in a hit, clipping Peter's jaw. Peter hits him back then, the first hit since Tony came upon them, and the guy goes down in a heap. Peter rubs his cheek.

“Rude, dude,” he says. He shoots out a few webs, pinning the guy in place. Tony decides now is probably the best time to announce his presence. He steps forward and claps his hands dramatically.

“Nice right hook, kid.”

Peter spins around, shoulders tensing and falling just as fast when he sees it's Tony and not another bad guy. He tracks the space around them for a second before coming back to look at Tony.

“Whoa,” he blurts out. “I mean, hi, Mr. Stark. Uh, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to witness your moves, Mike Tyson. You join the fight club or something?”

“Huh?”

“That's right," says Tony. "First rule is never talk about fight club. Smart.”

Peter lets out a nervous laugh. “Um, not that I'm trying to rush through these outdated references, but uh, what're you doing here, Mr. Stark? Do you need me for something?”

“First of all, I resent that. And second, I got a worried call from your friend Ted. Apparently you aren't answering his texts fast enough. Sounds a little too co-dependent, if you ask me.”

Peter groans. He pulls at the fabric of his suit, in the awkward space right by his hip bone, and yanks his phone free. Tony is definitely going to need to install a better place for that.

“I dropped it,” Peter says, by way of explanation. “It hasn't been working.”

Tony pricks it out of his grip with a look of disgust and slides it into his own pocket. “You need an upgrade anyway. I'll get you a Stark phone.”

Peter's face lights up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Whatever gets your nerd friends to stop calling me. And on that topic, _why_ are your nerd friends calling me?”

“Oh, uh, about that.” Peter rubs the back of his neck. “I gave Ned your number in case of emergencies. You know, if I'm ever in trouble or whatever.”

“Maybe have a chat with him about what an 'emergency' is. Who else did you give my number to?”

“Just May. She kind of told me if I didn't she wouldn't let me do this anymore.”

“Well, May is different. You tell her she can call me anytime. And I mean _anytime_.” Peter's expression of pure horror has Tony laughing way too hard. He sobers enough to keep himself in check. _Right_. He has things to do. He has people to see. He can embarrass Peter another day.

“If I start getting any prank calls, I'm coming after you. Do you got that?”

Peter nods quickly. “No prank calls. I'll talk to Ned, I promise.”

“Good. Great. Grand. Happy will be by your place tonight with a new phone. Try not to need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely.”

He trails behind Tony, following him out onto the street. Before they reach it, the car starts with an audible hum of the engine, the doors unlocking, the windows cracking, and even with the mask on Tony can tell the kid is gawking.

“Did that just start _itself_? You didn't even touch anything!”

“Jeez, kid, what century are you in? We've been able to remote start cars for years.”

“Yeah, but with like buttons and apps,” Peter says. “You didn't do anything at all.”

“Call it magic.” Tony slips his sunglasses on and moves around to the driver's side. “You want one of these too?”

Peter's eyes go comically wide. “What – one of – are you kidding me?” he sputters.

“Of course I am,” Tony says. “No chance in hell you could handle a car like this. Stay in school, kid. Don't do drugs. Blah blah blah.”

“Oh no. You're not starting this too, are you?”

“Starting what?”

“The whole Captain America PSA thing.”

“I'm sorry, the what?”

Peter steps back. He shakes his head, desperately, waving his arms to dismiss the statement. “Nevermind.” He fires a web up to a building and yanks himself along with it, calling over his shoulder, “Forget I said anything. Bye, Mr. Stark!”

“This is gonna be gold,” Tony says. He slides into the car and hits the command to initiate the self-driving feature. “FRIDAY, pull up the PSA the kid mentioned.”

“There are multiple videos in the PSA series,” FRIDAY says. “Would you like me to play them all?”

Tony smirks. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

* * *

_2._

If he's being honest, the main reason he picks up the phone when Ned calls again is because he happens to be in the world's most boring business meeting and he's about to rip his hair out if he has to listen to another moment of this client talking about all the things he pays Pepper to listen to so he doesn't have to waste his time. Even if the call isn't important – and he's really banking on it not being – he tells everyone around the table it is and takes it anyway.

So, at least there's that.

“What's up?” he asks.

“Mr. Stark? It's Ned. Peter's friend.”

“Yeah, I have caller ID. I still know who you are.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. I just – wait, did you save my number? I mean, that's insane. It's –”

“You want to hurry up and place your order before the drive-through closes?”

There's a muffled shout on the other end of the line, followed by more voices too far away for Tony to make out. Ned sounds like he's moving through them, the noises swelling and dropping down again until they are only a whisper in the background.

“Uh, do you know anything about Peter's healing abilities?”

Now _this_ piques Tony's internet and concern. He makes a general motion to the room, excusing himself to the hallway where he smashes his phone between his ear and shoulder, tapping on his watch to bring up the vital information from the kid's suit in case he's wearing it. There's no information.

“What happened?”

“He's acting really strange.”

“How bad is he hurt?”

“He's not hurt,” Ned says quickly. “He's … sick? I dunno. We're at Flash's party and he's being really weird and he won't let me take him home or call May. ”

Tony drops his arm down. He's gonna have a serious talk with Peter about defining what an emergency is. “Tell me you're not calling in a code right now just because he's 'acting strange' at a party. You're teenagers. Strange is what you do. It's in your handbook.”

“This isn't a normal strange, Mr. Stark. Trust me. I've known Peter since we were kids and he's never been like this. Something is wrong.”

In his defense, Tony does owe this Ted kid a favor. If he hadn't sent him to that alleyway where Peter was, Tony never would have found out about the Captain America PSAs – and _oh_ is he so glad he's found them. Wherever Cap is hiding away right now, Tony is making sure to send him little snippets of the videos with captions like, “So your body's changing!” and, “Do you have a hot lunch?” and, “Remember to stop, drop, and roll.” Yeah, he's having a little too much fun.

So he has Ned tell him where the party is and he more than happily leaves his meeting. This time he takes a car a little less flashy – he's not trying to traumatize all these pubescent kids and he's definitely not trying to draw attention to himself being part of this _Can't Buy Me Love_ event – and he parks a block away and draws up the hood on his sweater in an attempt to blend in. Of course it doesn't work, because Tony has a lifetime on these teens and, let's face it, he's not twenty anymore. He sticks out like a sore thumb as soon as he enters the suburban home. Lucky for him, the lighting is dim and no one takes long enough to stare at his face to see who he really is.

He recognizes Ned long before Ned recognizes him. Quietly, he slides up next to where the kid is standing awkwardly at the counter in the kitchen, glancing between his phone and the hall. Tony bumps his shoulder and says, “Do you know where I can get a beer? This party is kind of lame.”

Ned's eyes nearly pop out of his head. He gapes for a moment and chokes out, “Mr. Stark?”

“My friends call me T-Star,” Tony says.

“They do?”

“No. But I'm hoping it will catch on. Where is he?”

“He went upstairs,” Ned says. His eyes flicker behind Tony like he's expecting Peter to appear. Tony looks back too. A few curious faces turn toward him.

“Lead the way,” Tony says. “The longer I'm here, the creepier it gets.”

Ned does lead the way, but he makes sure to throw a heartfelt “It's not creepy” over his shoulder as they start up the stairs as if _that_ could possibly make it any better. Tony doesn't even know which one of these pipsqueaks is hosting this shindig. Although, he's not sure it really matters.

They reach the top landing and head down the hall. A group has formed outside on the balcony and they are chanting something that sounds suspiciously like, “jump!” which can't be right, except there's a figure near the railing getting ready to climb over it and everyone is laughing these manic laughs and, shit, yeah, someone is gonna jump.

That someone just happens to be a messy-haired, stumbling Peter Parker.

“Peter!” Ned cries.

Tony makes it to him before he can get his leg over the banister. He grabs his arm and not-so-kindly yanks him back, catching at him before he can fall. “Show's over,” he says to the crowd. “Everyone disperse. Flee. Resume your normal activities.” He's met with blank stares. He pulls his hood off. “Get _out_.”

This seems to work. People file back inside, murmuring under their breath, snapping pictures of Tony before Tony can close the door on them. So much for trying not to stand out.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter blinks quickly at him, swaying slightly. Tony could be ten feet away and he'd still be able to figure out exactly what is going on. Peter reeks of alcohol. Absolutely _reeks_.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” Tony turns to Ned. “Are you telling me you couldn't smell that before you called?”

Ned's eyes are wide. He shakes his head frantically. “My nose is plugged. I have a cold. I can't smell anything.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says again, his voice slurring. “What're you doin' here?”

“Stopping you from jumping to your death,” Tony says. He clicks the blue button on his bracelet and watches as a stream of light projects over his hand. The kid stares at it with an expression mixed with confusion and awe. Tony grabs his chin.

“Stay still.”

The quick vital scan tells him what he already knows. Peter is wasted out of his mind. And not the good kind of wasted, but the kind where people black out or go to the hospital or fall from the top floor of two-story houses cause their peers are little pieces of shit who encourage them to test their mortality.

“How much did you drink, kid?” Tony asks.

“I didn't drink.” Peter steps away from him unsteadily. “I don't drink. May would … May would kill me.”

“Yeah, well, she's not gonna be thrilled.”

“Are we … do we fight? We need … do you need me for some fighting? I'm so ready, Mr. Stark. I feel good. Who are we fighting?”

“ _We're_ not fighting anyone,” Tony says. “You're going home and you're gonna sleep this off and hope you don't wake up tomorrow with a hangover from the devil.”

“What hangover?”

“Jesus. Does this school teach you guys anything? Where's that 'this is your brain on drugs' video when you need it?”

“I don't … I don't do drugs,” Peter says, and he sounds so honestly sincere that Tony has to take a second to figure out how the kid could be this wasted and not think he was.

“What have you had to drink tonight?”

“Jus' punch,” Peter says. He grins lopsidedly. “Does Pepper know you're here? She's gonna be mad you didn't invite her.”

“I think she'll be fine, kid. House parties haven't been her thing since the early 90s.” Tony snatches a plastic cup off the table next to him and takes a whiff of it. _Yikes_. “How much punch did you have?” He directs the question to Ned too. “How much did he have?”

Ned shrugs. “I dunno.”

Peter squints. “'s just punch, Mr. Stark. You should try some. 's good.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Even _I_ don't take my alcohol this strong. This thing has been spiked six ways to Sunday.”

“What?” Peter's face morphs into terror. A sheen of water fills his eyes and spills over onto his cheeks. “Mr. Stark, I didn't – I swear I didn't know. I didn't mean – May is gonna kill me. What do I do? I've never had anything to drink. How do I – can I undo it? Can I take something or like, like, _do_ something?”

“Whoa, calm down there, Degrassi. It's not a big deal.” Tony puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“It _is_ a big deal,” Peter says. “I don't do this. I can't do this. Not to May. I have to be ... I'm supp'sed to be responsible.”

Tony bites back a groan. This might be better than that horrible meeting he was in, but probably not too much. Now he's got a drunk, emotional kid he has to deal with, and hell if he knows how to do that.

“All right, come on.” He takes Peter's elbow and leads him inside, down the stairs and past gawking teen faces who of course will make sure this is all over the internet before he can do anything about it. Whatever. Tony will get his revenge at some point. Sure, it may not have been Peter's fault that he got drunk, but Tony needs someone to blame for the terrible headlines he's going to see tomorrow.

In the living room, they pass by a particularly annoying kid who yells out, “Penis Parker! Can't hold your liquor, can you?” and then comes to a horrified stop when Tony whips around to look at him.

“Tony Stark? Holy shit.”

Tony already doesn't like this snot-nosed kid with his popped collar and slicked back hair. And this is only further confirmed when he feels, rather than sees, Peter tense slightly. He lifts his eyebrows.

“This your party?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yes, sir. Sir, Mr. Stark. This is my party.”

“Mhmm. Well, next time you spike the punch and get a bunch of minors drunk, just remember I have sway in every top university in the country.”

The kid looks mortified. “Y-yes, sir, Mr. Tony Stark.”

Ned snorts under his breath. God, Tony is officially _that_ person. The not-cool, 'don't drink under twenty-one' kind of loser he always hated when he was Peter's age.

Yeah, he's definitely going to get even for this one.

Outside, he opens the passenger door to his car and nudges Peter in. “You,” he says to Ned, who is lingering at the curb, wringing his hands together. “Did you drink too?”

Ned shakes his head.

“You have a ride?”

“Yeah,” Ned says. “Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I can call my mom.”

“You do that.”

Tony closes the door and moves around to the driver's side. Ned steps closer. “Where are you taking him?”

“HQ,” Tony says. “Don't worry, I'll let Hot May know where he is.”

“HQ? Like, where the _Avengers_ live?”

“What's left of them, yeah.”

“Dude,” Ned says, sounding impressed.

“Dude indeed.” Tony slides into the car and rolls his window down. “Catch you on the flip side, Teddo.”

A huge grin spreads across Ned's face. “Later, T-Star.”

Tony lifts two fingers to his temple in a salute and drives away, glancing in his rear-view as Ned grows smaller and smaller behind them. He sends another look to Peter, who is wiping at his face.

“I should call May,” the kid mumbles miserably.

“Don't worry about it,” Tony says. “I'll give you an alibi.”

Peter sucks in a watery breath and meets his gaze. “W-why would you do that?”

“Look, kid. The way I see it, you're gonna do a hell of a lot of stuff to piss off your aunt. If you're gonna get ripped apart, it may as well be for something that was _actually_ your fault. So call it a freebie.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Whoa. Thanks, Mr. Stark. I owe you one.”

“You bet your ass you do. Now don't throw up in my car, okay? This leather is expensive.”

For his part, Peter doesn't throw up during the drive. He waits until they're inside the compound and Tony is riffling through the kitchen and he heaves his stomach into the trashcan right as Pepper comes to investigate what all the noise is about.

“What did you do to him?” she asks.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

Pepper purses her lips.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Kid's wasted beyond belief.”

“Tony,” she accuses.

“It's not like I took him to a bar, Pep. He was at some high school party. Really, I saved his life. I'm a hero.”

“Such a hero.” 

“'m okay,” Peter says. “Punch was spiked. I feel fine. I'm good. Don't worry about me.”

Tony raises his hands in a gesture to say “I told you so.” Pepper shoots him a playful scowl.

“He's staying, yes?” she asks, drawing Peter slowly to his feet.

“Yeah.”

“I'll go make sure Vision knows not to come through the wall.”

“Appreciate you,” Tony says, drawing a heart in the air.

“Shut up.”

Peter plops down on the stool at the counter and rests his elbows on the surface, leaning his chin into his hands. He's a little disheveled, his pupils too wide, his hair sticking out in every direction. Tony slides a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly his way.

“Eat something,” he says. “Soak up some of that alcohol. You're gonna have to sleep most of it off.”

Peter nods and reaches for a butter knife.

Tony says, “So how long has that guy been picking on you?” and normally it would startle Peter into dropping something or fumbling to create some excuse, but his reaction time is already so slow that he just looks up with a frown.

“What guy?”

“The one whose party you were at,” says Tony. “Word of advice, kid, maybe don't go to the house of someone who hates you.”

“He doesn't hate me. He just … doesn't like me.”

“You're splitting hairs here.”

Peter shrugs. Tony gives him a second to go on, but he doesn't.

“He could at least come up with a better name than 'Penis Parker.' What is he, eleven?”

This gets a laugh out of Peter, so Tony cuts his losses. Maybe he'll try again when the kid is more sober. Or maybe he just needs to back off. Peter can handle his own. Tony has seen it before. There must be a good reason he isn't doing anything now.

Come to think of, though, Tony doesn't actually know that much about Peter. Sure, he knows what he can do as Spider-Man, and he knows Peter has a tendency to act without using his head, but their relationship has never gotten very personal. Peter is usually just a ball of excited energy who is happy to get his ass handed to him by whatever Avenger is willing to help with his training just so he can say he got to work with them. If the kid is gonna be part of this makeshift team, Tony should probably learn more about him.

“Hey, why the hell were you trying to jump off the balcony?” Tony asks.

“Cause everyone dared me to,” Peter says. “'s not like I would have gotten that hurt. I'm a spider, 'member?”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to follow the statement with some stupid quip about how if Peter's friends jumped off a bridge, would he jump too? Because quite clearly the kid would.

“Yeah, okay, Spider-Boy. Whatever you say.”

A ring sounds from his phone. Tony pries it out of his pocket to see two separate messages from Pepper.

 _ **Smooth** , _she writes, and then attaches a link to an article from the New York Post.

_Tony Stark revisits his teen years at a high school house party. Has no one told him the glory days are over?_

He growls.

* * *

_3._

In the last shred an of attempt to create anything as close to normal as he can, Tony decides to throw a Christmas party – er, a _holiday_ party, as Pepper corrected him, because “there are other holidays this time of year too.” Whatever. Tony doesn't really care what holiday it is. He just wants to throw a party because this is what he would do before the team broke up and he'd like to create the illusion of things being that level of okay again. Of course they're _not_ , and Tony doesn't feel like he is either, but hell if he can't pretend.

So now they're here in the compound, and Pepper is checking off last minute things and Vision and Rhodey are lingering by the bar while Natasha pours herself a drink.

“You invite the kid?” Pepper asks.

Tony nods. He'd considered, briefly, inviting Ned too, but Happy had made it clear that under no circumstances would he be babysitting two teens tonight. He already isn't pleased he has to watch over Peter, and Tony doesn't exactly trust the idea of both Peter _and_ Ned wandering around here by themselves, so he ditched the thought almost as soon as he had it.

“About time you gave him a break,” Natasha says, smirking into her glass as she slides up next to him.

“Is this a union thing?”

“More of a 'you-only-bring-the-kid-over-so-I-can-kick-his-ass' thing. He deserves some fun.”

“Excuse you,” Tony says, checking his watch. “You're not the only one who kicks his ass. Conceited.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I'll be sure to clarify that in my labor dispute.”

“I'll be sure to ignore it all the same.”

People start lingering in after that, arriving in pairs first, and then solo, and then in groups. Happy and Peter show up in the midst of them. The kid is clad in black pants and a dark, plaid button-down that's open over the gray shirt underneath it, and he doesn't look entirely under-dressed compared to the rest of the guests, but they still look at him anyway.

Tony steps forward and slings an arm over his shoulders in a loose embrace, leading him through the sea of curious eyes. Fifteen-year-old. Right. Why wouldn't they stare?

“Welcome to the fun,” Tony says. “Make sure you set a good impression for your kind.”

“My kind?” Peter asks. He's tense under Tony's hold, his hands wringing together nervously. He's awfully quiet for someone who wouldn't stop asking questions when Tony first invited him to this shindig.

“Yeah, teenagers. Kids. Pubescent beings. Whatever you call yourselves.”

Natasha spots them from across the room and crosses the distance between them, her face pulling into a smile. “Are you picking on my teammate?”

Peter perks up at this. Before he can open his mouth, Tony cuts him off.

“You two can discuss your collective bargaining terms later. Take your sidekick here and teach him how to make friends.”

Natasha purses her lips, muttering, “He's not my _sidekick_ ” the same time Peter whispers, “Holy _shit_.” It changes Natasha's demeanor instantly, and despite herself she seems pleased that Peter is excited instead of insulted.

“Come on, kid,” she says. “I'll show you the ropes.”

“No alcohol!” Tony calls after them, flashing a grin when Peter's cheeks flush red. Yeah, he's certainly not letting something like _that_ happen again. His party crowd might be mature enough not to coerce someone to jump off a balcony, but he figures Peter can find ways to get in trouble without the help of anyone else just fine.

He heads off to do some mingling of his own. And by mingling he means he finds Rhodey and they have a few drinks and they chat for a while until their conversation morphs from the new apartment Rhodey is looking at to where he's supposed to buy pants now, and whatever happened to the days of girls and booze, and “remember that one trip to Cabo?” that they swore they'd never talk about again so Tony references it now by saying, “That one thing … you know … and the other,” while Rhodey groans and says, “Stop it – Tones – I'm warning you – quit it!”

It's so light and airy and fun that Tony doesn't take much stock in it when Rhodey leans against the counter and says, “He seems anxious.”

“Who?”

“Your 'intern' over there.”

Tony follows his gaze over to where Peter is standing with Vision. “He's always anxious. Kid is a pile of nervous energy.”

“Yeah, I've sparred with him before. I've seen it. But _that_? That's not nervous energy. That's unease.”

He's not wrong. In any other situation, Peter being near one of the Avengers has him bouncing on his feet while his mouth moves so fast no one can quite understand what he's saying. Right now he is subdued, nodding carefully whenever Vision talks, glancing around like he's waiting for something that hasn't happened yet. But Tony figures it's just nerves and the combination of being at a party with adults he doesn't know, and it doesn't really start to bother him until he's on his way to Pepper and he hears Happy say, “Kid, it's just getting good. Chill out. Get something to eat.”

He turns to see Peter doing that same thing with his fingers again, bunching them together and pulling at the limbs. He starts toward him, but Rhodey beats him there and steers Peter off in another direction. He gives Tony a wink as they go.

Peter manages to stay off his radar for a while, which is good, because Tony is growing more and more suspicious of him and his strange behavior. He has another drink with Pepper and they find Helen Cho and discuss the updated version of the regeneration cradle she's working on. She asks where Thor is, attempting and failing to keep her tone casual, and Pepper shakes her head almost solemnly.

“I was hoping he'd be here too. He's pretty dreamy, isn't he? All those muscles.”

Tony pokes her in the ribs. “What, do I have to become a god to impress you?”

“What can I say? The stakes are high.”

Helen chuckles. Not far from them, Peter has wormed his way over to where Happy is chatting up some woman Tony doesn't remember inviting, which means she's probably here with someone else. If Happy knows that, he doesn't seem to care, because when Peter taps on his shoulder to pull him away he looks extra frustrated.

“What is it?” he asks, sounding half annoyed and half distracted. Peter mumbles something Tony can't make out over the music, and Happy must not be able to hear it either because he looks at Peter again, eyebrows lifted. “What's wrong?”

This time Peter's voice is just loud enough to be picked up. “I can't breathe.”

Happy snaps into action. He has one hand wrapped around Peter's arm and is dragging him through the crowd before Tony can even break away from the conversation he stopped listening to.

He touches the small of Pepper's back to interrupt her mid-ramble. “Will you two excuse me? I need to check on something.”

Pepper's eyes shift past him and track the spot where Peter was a few seconds ago. She nods, but Tony doesn't wait for it. He's following Happy's trail as soon as the words leave his mouth.

He finds them a floor down in a conference room. Peter is sitting on the edge of the table and Happy is standing in front of him, gripping his shoulder. Even before Tony enters he can see Peter's chest rising and falling in unsteady intervals.

“What's going on?”

Happy swivels around to look at him and then turns his attention back to Peter. “Don't know. Kid says he can't breathe.”

“I heard that part.” Tony steps forward, moving beside Happy. “Kid, what's up? You allergic to something?”

Peter shakes his head and swallows loudly. His fingers creep up toward his chest. “'m sorry,” he pants. “'m okay. Just ...”

“Just suffocating. Uh huh, totally okay. Are you hurt?” Because it would be so like Peter to be injured and come to this party anyway and not tell anyone.

But there's another head shake. Tony tips Peter's chin up and has FRIDAY scan his vitals. His heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, and there's the fact that his breathing is still too fast and harsh, but nothing is screaming immediate danger at them.

“Can ...” Peter's throat works silently. “Can someone take me home?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Tony says. “Why don't we just chill out a second and you can tell us what's going on.”

Peter doesn't say anything. He has his shirt bunched up in his fist and he's staring holes into the carpet by Tony's shoes as he gasps lightly.

And – _oh_.

“Shit,” Tony says. The kid is having a panic attack. He should have realized sooner. “Uh. Jeez, okay. Just take some breaths. In and out. I mean, try to slow your breathing. Try to calm down a little.”

Peter must not realize the same thing Tony does. He takes a few deep breaths, but he's more focused on getting out of there. Lucky for him, distance is something Tony can do. He makes sure Peter isn't going to hyperventilate or pass out and then he waves off Happy's offers and loads the trembling kid into a car and drives him back to Queens.

He keeps a constant monitor of Peter's pulse while his own races. Peter is silent the entire way there. His breathing evens out during the drive, slowing to a more natural pace, and it's only when they've pulled up to the apartment that he finally speaks again.

“Um ... thanks, Mr. Stark,” he says quietly, embarrassed. “I'm … I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, like, ruin your party.”

“It's not ruined,” Tony says. “I doubt anyone knows I'm even gone. I've had dozens of parties I've never been present at.”

Peter makes no motion to indicate he's heard the response. Tony eyes him carefully.

“Look, you gotta tell me what's up, kid. Cause if you're in trouble, I need to know. It's kind of my job.”

“I'm not – it's not –” Peter heaves out a gust of air like he still doesn't have quite enough oxygen to use.

Tony lifts a hand, palm out. “Stop. Take a breath.”

Peter does. He swipes over his eyes and blinks quickly. Oh God, if he's going to cry, Tony doesn't know what to do. Drunk Peter crying was one thing, but sober, emotional Peter is another.

“I'm fine,” Peter says slowly. “I'm not in trouble. I'm ...”

“You're what?”

“I'm …” He casts a glance out the window to the building and fidgets with the lock on the door. “I'm just having … the holidays are a little … um, hard … this year.”

Tony isn't following. At first he thinks this has something do with the kid's superhero persona, but nothing about that makes sense. Why would Christmas be hard for Spider-Man? He's living the teenage dream. And it's not like Spider-Man is Santa Clause. He has no obligations to make wishes come true.

“Mr. Stark?” he murmurs. “Can I … can I go?”

“No,” Tony says. “Seriously, kid. Give it to me straight. No chaser. What exactly is going on?”

Ah, there are the tears Tony didn't want, shimmering brightly but not falling yet. Peter bites down on his bottom lip and says, in a voice so small Tony nearly misses it entirely, “This is the first Christmas since he's been gone.”

And of all the shitty things Tony has done in his life, this feels like one of the worst. He knows about Peter's uncle. Has known it since before he recruited the kid. He's been keeping tabs on him since the moment Spider-Man made his debut – the same way he keeps tabs on any super-human who appears on his radar – and the death records of both his parents and Ben had been among the files Tony came across. He just _forgot_.

He rubs his temples. “Shit, kid. I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”

“It's okay,” Peter says shakily. “It's not your fault.”

It might not be, but damn it if Tony doesn't feel like he should do something anyway. Sometimes he forgets that under all that excitement and energy, Peter is just a kid who lost his parents before he could gather enough time with them to create real memories and then watched the only other father figure in his life die years after that in front of his eyes. An orphan taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“You didn't have to come to the party. If I'd known it was gonna be that hard for you, I wouldn't have invited you in the first place. I wasn't trying to torture you.”

Peter lets out a watery laugh. “I know. I didn't think it was gonna …” He breaks off with a choked noise. “Um, well, anyway, thanks for the ride and stuff. I, um, I'm just gonna go upstairs now, if that's all?” He hovers over the door handle and glances at Tony, waiting for permission. Tony just nods.

“Yeah, all right. I'll see you in a few days for training,” he says. “Don't be late. Natasha says she's got some new moves to try on you.”

“I thought I was training with Vision?”

“You were supposed to, but Natasha snagged you up first. Said something about wanting to work more with her protege.”

Peter's entire face lights up. Tony would tease him about it but he doesn't have the heart. With the struggles the kid is going through, the least he can do is let him take pride in his obvious joy of working with Black Widow.

“See ya, Mr. Stark.”

Tony bids him farewell and lingers until Peter has disappeared into the building.

“FRIDAY,” he says. “Call Natasha. I need to tell her to open her schedule this week so she can train with the kid.”

“Calling Natasha.”

Tony can't bring Ben back, but he can still do something to try to make this a little easier for Peter. After all, the kid is part of the team now, and that's what teams do for each other. They _help_ – no matter what it entails.

“Hey,” he says when Natasha comes over the line. “I need a favor.”

Well, they have to start somewhere, right?

* * *

_4._

Pepper tells him it's probably a mistake when he decides to invite Peter to his New Year's Eve party, but Tony is never one to listen to negative comments, so he invites him anyway. He figures this holiday will be different than Christmas, and besides, he'd rather the kid be here with all of them instead of sulking alone with his aunt. He invites her too – and then invites Ned for good measure.

“I'm not watching them,” Happy warns. “You're not sticking me on babysitting duty for this one.”

“Chill out. They'll be with May.”

It's a good plan. Well, at least to Tony it is. But come time for RSVPs, the rejections start rolling in. The first comes from Ned – and yeah, that one stings a little bit, but it's whatever. The next one comes from Peter, who declines for both himself and May, and Tony's pride feels more than a little wounded.

“He's probably doing something else,” Pepper tells him. “He's a teenager. They go to parties with people their own age.”

“Yeah, but this kid goes to parties held by people who hate him. You'd think he'd come to one hosted by someone who, I don't know, _doesn't_ hate him.”

“Maybe he is.”

“You know, if I didn't know better sometimes, I'd say you're really mean.”

Pepper kisses him on the cheek. “Trust your instincts.”

Unstable relationship aside, Tony's instincts are telling him Peter is still having a hard time dealing with everything. He's only seen Peter once since the panic attack and he'd seemed a little wary, a little tired. He'd still been excited to train with Natasha, but Natasha had cut their session short, telling Peter to go home and enjoy the rest of his time off. Later she told Tony the kid was too distracted to make any progress.

“He just needs a break,” she said. So Tony gave him one. They all needed a break anyway.

But now he's got a party to plan and three guests not coming. Happy doesn't say anything about the cancellations, but he seems to breathe easier once he finds out and he gets a really annoying spring in his step like someone just lifted a huge weight off his shoulders and he's seeing the world for the first time.

 _Yeah, yeah._ Tony knows Happy called Peter to check up on him after the Christmas fiasco. He can lie all he wants, but he cares about the kid. It's all just for show.

Still, there are enough things to do that Tony decides to stow away his own theatrics and let it go. If something was going on, he's sure he'd hear about it from Ned. Then again, Ned also declined his invitation, and that one is more confusing than Peter doing the same. That one is what makes Tony wonder if maybe something _is_ actually going on and neither of the two teens is telling him. 

He doesn't get much time to analyze it. Come New Year's Eve, he gets called down to the city earlier than he planned to arrive. His party is in a building there anyway, but mechanical engineers are having an issue with the self-sustaining power he installed for the ball drop and need him to come fix it now before everyone freaks out.

And that's where he finds Peter. On 46th and Broadway, in the heart of Times Square, leaning against a control barrier as he and Ned stand smashed in a group of waiting tourists. He has a horrendous purple and yellow top hat on his head that matches everyone around him and he's scrolling through his phone, laughing at something on his screen.

Tony stops in the center walkway and lets the coordinator he was following keep going.

“Give me a sec,” he says. “I'll meet you up there.” Then he moves in front of Peter and doesn't make any form of introduction, just says, “Please tell me you didn't blow off my party just so you could stand out here in the cold for nine hours.”

For a kid with heightened senses, Peter is still so surprised by the sudden interruption that he nearly drops his phone.

“Don't break that,” Tony says. “The next one won't be free.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter stares at him in bewilderment and then looks at Ned, whose expression matches his own. “Uh. Hey. Are you – what're you doing here?”

“I'm fixing the ball. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Oh. Um, just watching the ball drop.”

“You can see the ball drop from my party.”

“Yeah, but you're above the main stage. We wanted to see ...” Peter pauses. He slides his hat off and holds it in his hands, fumbling with the lid of it. “Um, there's just someone we want to see perform and you can't see them that well from up there.”

The kid is looking way too embarrassed for Tony not to prod further now. “Who do you want to see? If you say Mariah Carey, so help me ...”

“No.” Peter throws a helpless glance to Ned. “Uh.” His next words are mumbled so quietly Tony almost doesn't hear them.

Almost.

But he does.

He blinks at Peter. “You're ditching me for _Nick Jonas_?”

“He's got some great songs, okay?” Peter says defensively. “And a really good range. He used to be on Broadway. And he plays his own instruments. And –”

“Yeah, I know how talented the teeny bopper is,” Tony says, trying his best to swallow the laughs threatening to escape. He runs a hand over his mouth. _Not the time_ , he tells himself. He'll tease the kid later after he saves the New Year.

“Why didn't you just tell me? You don't think I appreciate pop music?”

“I dunno,” Peter says. Oh, he _does_ know. The expression of pure mortification is answering enough.

Tony shakes his head. “Look, kid, you wanna see a Jonas Brother, you can see a Jonas Brother. Hell, I'll do you one better. You ever meet one before?”

“What? I … what? You can … you can _do_ that?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course I can do that.”

“That would … shit – I mean, that would be amazing, Mr. Stark. That would … I don't ...”

“All right, calm down before you rupture something. Where's Hot May?”

“She's getting coffee. She convinced all the security people to let her go if she brought some back for them.”

“Wow. Looks _and_ personality. Don't get a lot of those.”

Peter's nose crinkles in mild disgust. At the same time, one of the faces turned in their direction finally realizes who is standing in front of them.

“Hey,” a guy says. “Are you Tony Stark?”

“Never when it counts,” Tony says. More gazes land on him. He makes a beckoning motion. “Let's go meet us a Disney star and save New York. Maybe not in that order. Come on. You too, Teddo.”

“ _Me_?” Ned asks.

Jesus, Tony is pretty sure these kids are going to explode.

“Yeah, you.”

Peter pushes the metal guardrail in front of them out a few feet and slides free of the crowd, waiting for Ned to follow suit. Before he can, a police officer spots them and starts to head their way. Tony stops her with a raised hand.

“They're with me,” he says.

There's a quick nod of acknowledgment and then both Peter and Ned are scrambling to put the barrier back into its proper place. Tony is walking away before they're done.

“Call your aunt so I can have someone bring her to us,” he says over his shoulder.

“On it.”

Ned jogs to catch up. “Wow. Thanks for this, T-Star.”

“Uh huh.” Tony is sure he can call them even now. Nick Jonas for Captain America PSAs? Eh, whatever works.

“Did you just call him T-Star?” Peter asks.

Ned laughs. “It's an inside thing. You wouldn't understand.”

Tony smirks.

Yeah, okay. They're definitely even.

One down, one to go.

* * *

_5._

If Pepper asks, Tony is not doing this as an act of revenge. It's an opportunity for learning and growth and whatever other nonsense high school teachers will eat from the palm of his hand. That's why he invited Peter's entire class to HQ for a tour. Education and experience and shit.

Okay, and maybe a little revenge on the kid. Just a little.

It's not like he's planning on popping in during their walk-through, except when they actually get there just after ten, Tony can't help but make a special guest appearance. The absolutely mortified look on Peter's face lets him know that Peter wasn't expecting him to be there either, and, really, that's just a rookie mistake on his end.

“Welcome to headquarters,” Tony says to the group. “I'm sure you'll have a blast. Make sure not to touch anything because I'm pretty sure a tech contaminated half the equipment in the lab with some deadly disease and didn't tell anyone. ”

The teacher seems to take the joke seriously, but Tony can hear Peter's classmates murmuring things that sound like, “Iron Man!” and “That's Tony fucking Stark.” Above them all, he hears a vaguely familiar voice whisper, “Tony Stark was at my party. We're practically best friends,” followed by an entirely familiar voice whispering back, “Shut up, Flash.”

Tony's eyes narrow in the pair. Ned and the kid from the party with the slicked back hair who doesn't like Peter. He doesn't know if Flash knows he can hear them or not, but the fact that he's even bothering to say something along the lines of them being friends is enough to make Tony change course.

“Teddo,” he says. “Come here a second.”

Ned is more than happy to oblige, and everyone around them watches as he squirms his way through the group and tumbles out in front of Tony.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey.” Tony looks behind him. “Where's your other half?”

“Uh.” Ned looks too, standing on tiptoes to peer over people's heads. He spots Peter the same moment Tony does. “There.”

Amusement spikes for a brief moment. It's not just that Peter looks like he wants to disappear and die, because he absolutely does, but he also looks like he's _actually_ dying. There's no color in his face and sweat is forming along his brow and he's hiding at the back of the crowd like he doesn't want to be here but has to be so the least he can do is not be seen.

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. “This is gonna be more fun than I thought.”

“Maybe just, um, be a little easy on him?” Ned says. “He's sick today, but I made him come.”

“Am I gonna have to owe you another one or can we apply Nick Jonas to this as well?”

“Did Peter tell you he gave us his number? He was all, 'You guys are cool. Any friend of Tony Stark is a friend of mine. Let's hang sometime' and then took Peter's phone and put his number in. And I did a database search and it's legit.”

“Yeah, you shouldn't tell people that last part,” Tony says. Peter meets his gaze and drops it quickly. Tony tries to hide a smirk. “All right, look. I'm gonna do you a favor because you did me one. I'm giving you one-time-only permission to call me T-Star in front of everyone. Hopefully it'll wipe that dumb smile off Flash's face once and for all. I hate that kid.”

“We all do,” Ned says.

“Yet you go to his parties.”

“Well –”

Tony lifts a hand. “Ah. Don't care. You've got five seconds before my offer runs out. Five, four, three ...”

Ned jumps and turns back to his class, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks, T-Star!”

Tony twirls his fingers into a wave. “No problem, Teddo.”

It achieves his desired effect, makes Flash's mouth drop open in surprise, makes Peter run a hand over his face in disbelief. Tony is already on a roll, so he stops while he's ahead and lets the research assistant he hired as a guide start her memorized speech and lead the group elsewhere. He doesn't miss the way Peter seems to stumble as he follows along.

There's something funny about it, until there's not. Until Tony goes back to his day and settles himself in the lab and hears Ned saying, “He's sick today” over in his head and can't figure out what sounds wrong with it.

Natasha knocks on the door and peeks her head in. “Delivery,” she says. “For a Mr. Tony Stank?”

“You tell Rhodey if he wants to keep his legs he better stop spreading that around.”

“I'll get right on that.”

“What's the delivery?”

“My presence.” Natasha leans against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest. Her blonde hair is still new to Tony, still strange enough to make him do a double take when he sees her in the hall. “Pepper says you're picking on the kid again.”

“Pepper is a filthy liar.”

“Is that so? Because I just saw him and he looks pretty miserable. Surprising, since he's usually always so excited to be here.”

“What can I say? He's a teenager. Changing emotions. Hormones. You know, all that fun stuff.”

Natasha smiles. “Don't think I had much experience with that. I'll take your word.”

“Always take my word.”

“Let's not push it.”

Tony pauses the program he's running and sits back in his chair, stretching out his arms. “Wanna help?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

\- - -

It's mean. If Tony has to be honest, he knows it is. But there's something so fun about making Peter burn red with embarrassment, and the kid is just so gullible it can't be helped. So he sends Natasha to meet the high schoolers down near one of the launch zones and introduce herself. He watches through live security footage as she slinks her way over to Peter while she talks and drapes an arm across his shoulder.

“We should have one of our jets taking off here in a minute,” she says. “Have you guys ever seen one before?”

There's a collective mutter indicating a negative answer. Ned is staring at Natasha like she died and came back to life right in front of him.

She pretends to check her watch. “Go look out the window. You won't want to miss it.”

The class hovers closer to the glass, but Peter stays back, trapped in Natasha's hold.

“Did Mr. Stark put you up to this?” he whispers.

“You know it.”

He groans. “I can't believe this.”

“Did you expect anything different?” She nudges him. “You're a little warm there. Want me to take your coat? I can put it in your quarters.”

Peter wiggles out from her grasp. “Absolutely not. Nope. No. That's fine. I just, uh, gotta get back to class. Apparently a jet is about to take off. Can't miss that. Super exciting. We might have a quiz on it later.”

“Good luck,” Natasha says. “I know how important quizzes are. Try not to miss this one, huh?”

She's gone before the jet is.

Peter takes a second to compose himself and then locks eyes on the camera Tony is watching him through.

Unfortunately for Tony, Happy comes to retrieve him before he can torment Peter any longer. There are still at least a dozen things he wants to do, like join the Midtown students in the cafeteria for lunch, but now he has meetings and people to talk to and other actually important things to do. It puts a damper on his good mood and only furthers the strange feeling of something being wrong.

That something is confirmed when Tony is finally able to check on the class again and discovers Peter isn't with them anymore. He waits a little bit, in case Peter is in the bathroom or maybe Natasha pulled him away, but Natasha appears without him, and Peter doesn't appear at all.

He makes sure not to cause a scene when he passes the group again and casually motions for Ned to join him.

“I might be wrong, but wasn't there a scrawny, moppy-headed spider with you earlier?”

Ned's face bunches together. “I thought he was with you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“He left during lunch. Said he had to talk to you about something and he'd be back.”

The sensation of discomfort makes itself known again. Peter might not be the best at communicating problems, but he wouldn't ditch his class unless something was happening. A threat? No, he'd actually come to Tony, wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave the compound to face danger on his own. Even _he_ is not that stupid. And Tony hasn't gotten any intel from FRIDAY about an attack.

So where is the kid?

It's not hard for Tony to find out. He has FRIDAY pull up footage from cameras stationed all over the building and watches Peter leave the cafeteria and head for the elevator. He swipes his keycard over the reader and then uses it once again inside. There are few floors that require double access to get to. Tony knows right away where he's going.

He follows in the kid's footsteps and steps out onto the floor where the living quarters are. Just as he suspects, Peter is in his room. He steps up to the open door and lifts his fist to knock, stopping when he sees the sprawled out figure on the bed.

“Good morning, good morning,” he sings, lifting his eyebrows when Peter startles and rolls over.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Mr. Stark is my dad,” Tony says. “Speaking of dads, why are you taking a siesta in the middle of a school trip?”

Peter rubs his eyes. “What does that have to do with dads?”

“It doesn't. I didn't have a segue.”

“Oh.”

“You gonna answer the question?”

“I, uh … what was the question?”

Tony tilts his head. “You know,” he says, “I thought you spiders couldn't get sick. Not with your advanced healing.” And it occurs to him then this is why he's been feeling the weird unease since Ned mentioned it. He didn't think Peter could get sick.

Come to think of it, he was almost _sure_ Peter couldn't get sick.

“I dunno,” Peter says. “I still get the flu. Just doesn't, uh, last very long, I guess.”

“Is that what you have now?”

“I dunno. No. Maybe. Shit, um, how long was I up here?”

“Couple hours.”

“I should get back. I didn't mean to sleep so long. I was just gonna come up here for lunch.”

“Lunch has come and gone without you, kid. Stay. Snooze. I'll let your teacher know where you are.”

“No,” Peter says quickly, scrambling to his feet. “I'm good. No one will ever let me live it down if I stay here.”

“I guess that's a little bit my fault.”

“I mean, it's entirely your fault, but yeah,” Peter mutters. His cheeks flush. He rubs the back of his neck.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Kid.”

“I'm good, Mr. Stark. Already feeling better.”

“Okay,” Tony says with a shrug. He doesn't believe him. He doesn't really have a reason to. “Up to you. I'll walk you down.”

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark, please. It's already bad enough.”

“Let's go, my young minion.”

Yeah, it's all kind of mean, but at least Tony creates an excuse for Peter and tells his teacher he needed to borrow him for some official intern work. That gets Peter out of trouble _and_ gets Flash to scowl in jealousy _and_ gets his teacher to ask him a series of amazed questions about what it's like to work with Tony Stark.

Tony decides to spare him further embarrassment and lets them finish their tour in peace. He waits until he's back at his lab before he gives into his curiosity.

“FRIDAY, do some research for me. See why a kid with enhanced abilities is still getting colds. Let's figure out what's up with his immune system.”

“On it, boss.”

“Oh, and while you're at it, maybe tell Vision I changed my mind and he doesn't need to go ask Peter what the 'birds and the bees' talk really means.”

“I think that's probably for the best."

"Don't lecture me, Fri."

Tony checks in once on the group to make sure Peter is still standing and is surprised to find that the kid wasn't lying to him – he's already looking better. Still like he hates his life and doesn't want to be here, but less like the walking dead. Tony might be worried for nothing, but in his defense, he's a little too used to Peter doing things that make him seem like he's in trouble when he isn't. A classic case of the boy who cried wolf. 

"I'm afraid we'd have to do a more detailed study on Peter himself," FRIDAY says. "Every person with enhanced abilities is different, but from what I can see, some of them are able to get sick, especially if they are stressed or exposed to new elements."

"Interesting," Tony says, and a little relieving now that he knows it's not uncommon and that the kid isn't hiding something important. "Let's extend our criteria. Push it to SHIELD's case files too. And since the kid is looking better, how about we end his little field trip with some fun?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Tell Vision I unchanged my mind. Tell him it's real important he finds Peter before he leaves."

FRIDAY seems to sigh. "You got it, boss."

Tony smiles. Okay, _now_ they are even. 

* * *

_6._

Tony misses the first sign.

In his defense, he misses it because it shouldn't even _be_ a sign. It's a fight in the middle of the city with some jerks who have created high-tech armor and weapons and are wreaking havoc on everyone within a three mile radius. By the time he and Rhodey arrive, Peter is already in full swing.

“Sheesh, kid,” Tony says through the open comm. “Could have let you take care of this yourself.”

On the ground, Peter whips his head up, searching the sky. “Mr. Stark? Oh – hey.”

“Hey. You save any fun for us?”

“Fun?” Rhodey asks. “You complained the entire way here about having to do this and now you're calling it fun?”

“Not in front of the kid, Rhodes,” Tony says. “He thinks I'm cool.”

“He's in for a rough time when he finds out the truth.”

Peter snorts out a laugh. The moment is short and sweet. One of the guys shoots a blast of red light at Peter and it scorches the pavement around him. Peter is only a little faster, webbing to a building and pulling himself out of the way before it can burn him.

“Well that's rude,” he says to the guy. “I thought we were friends.”

Tony doesn't hear the response, but he does hear Peter mutter, “You kiss your mom with that mouth?” before another shot is fired. This one comes from a second guy, who manages to hit Peter while his back is turned. It sends the kid tumbling across the street.

“Hey, asshole,” Tony calls. The blaster on his palm whirls as it powers up. “Why don't you pick on someone your own size?” He shatters the alien-looking device in the second guy's hand before he can even blink.

They take off from there. Rhodey singles in on a pair of the men while Tony targets the ones with the biggest weapons. Peter has picked himself up and is in a stand-off with the guy who shot him and the first one he tantalized. His mouthy jabs are an almost constant stream in the comm.

“Listen, I get it. One time I wanted to be a drummer in a band. But then I found out I suck at the drums. So you know what I did? I found another hobby. You should consider it, cause you're really failing here.”

“Jesus,” Rhodey says. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Tony aims a small missile at a weak spot in the metal cage of armor surrounding the leader of the group. “You have to ask?”

But then Peter _does_ stop talking, right in the middle of a sentence, and Tony just figures it's because someone else on the ground with him has managed to get in another word. It isn't until they've destroyed all the tech and have most of the men disabled that Tony gets another look at the kid and is surprised to find him on all fours, his head bowed, Rhodey kneeling beside him. In front of them, one of the guys is sprawled out on his back.

“You okay?” Rhodey asks. Tony is close enough to hear his voice without the comm.

Peter lets out a low moan. “Ugh. Yeah, just my head.”

When Tony lands with a harsh sound, Peter jolts. He stumbles up and straightens his spine and says, “I'm ... uh, yeah, I'm good.”

“You sure about that?” Tony asks. Up close, he can see blood pouring from the guy's nose. His right eye is swollen and blossoming with purple and red, and Tony realizes in this moment that Peter didn't just hit him, he actually _beat_ him, which is so unlike the kid to do.

But Tony doesn't say anything about it. He's certainly had his own fair share of overheated moments. He just claps Peter on the back, makes sure the kid isn't going to collapse, and invites everyone to some sushi to celebrate their victory.

\- - -

The second sign comes to him twice. The first is a call from Ned that ends right before Tony can pick it up. He doesn't think anything of it because there's nothing to think. Then Happy comes to him with a viral video while he and Pepper are eating pizza and watching a Spanish soap opera.

“Is it a puppy?” Pepper asks. “Please tell me it's a puppy. They are so cute.”

“Not exactly,” Happy says. He sends the video from his phone onto the TV.

“This better be funny,” Tony warns. “Hernandez was just about to reveal he's been the evil twin all along.”

“Wait, isn't he dating Amelia?”

“Spoilers!” Pepper says, throwing her hands over her ears. “Just start it.”

FRIDAY has the video playing a second later. It's familiar territory, some place in the middle of Queens. Peter is in full Spider-Man mode and swinging between buildings like he's been doing it all his life. There's a group collected below him, voices shouting, “Hey, Spider-Man!” and “I love you, Spider-Man!” Peter gives them a cocky wave – and, Jesus, he's such a little shit sometimes– but it, or something, pulls his attention away because Tony watches as he completely misses the target he's aiming his web at. He fumbles for a moment, connects to another building, but he doesn't have the height he needs.

He slams into the brick wall with enough force it sends him crashing to the ground. For a few seconds he does nothing but lay there, motionless and quiet, while people start to surround him. Then, just as fast, he's up and apologizing and swinging away.

“Okay,” Tony says. “That wasn't nearly as amusing as I thought it would be. Did someone check to make sure he was, I don't know, _alive_?”

“I'm not an idiot,” says Happy. “I called him, but the kid won't answer. FRIDAY did a facial scan. He's been out and about since then. Probably just embarrassed.”

“Yeah, well, who wouldn't be? Hit like that recorded and posted online? Holy shit, it just got another 10,000 views. I'm impressed.”

“There's an hour long loop of it,” FRIDAY reports.

Happy says, “There's one set to music too.”

Tony would love to watch each and every one of them, but there's something so entirely _not_ funny about the situation that is outweighing how hilarious it should be. He pulls up the looped video and zooms in to look closer at Peter's web shooters. No matter how hard he searches, it's always user error. The kid just missed his shot.

He calls Peter fifteen minutes later and he doesn't answer. He bites back his last traces of dignity and calls Ned too.

“Mr. Stark? H-Hi, um, h-hey. You're calling me – wait, is everything – is Peter okay?”

“You called me first,” Tony says.

“I .. um. That was an accident. Is everything okay?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” says Tony. “Kid has been avoiding everyone's calls after his little social media disaster. Has he decided to become a hermit?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. He, uh, he's … he's fine, Mr. Stark.”

The video loses traction a few days after its release. Peter returns to the streets as Spider-Man, swings through the city with that same practiced ease. He doesn't fall, and he doesn't answer Tony's calls, but he does show up at the compound for training with Natasha like nothing has happened.

Tony is in a meeting when he gets there. He's in the same meeting when Happy texts him to tell him the kid is down in the med bay.

This is not where the third sign comes, but it is, Tony will think later, where he wishes it did. Because he's expecting a small mishap, an accidental sprain or twisted limb from a miscommunication during training. What he's not expecting is a real injury. An honest-to-god, _bleeding_ wound leaking through the front of Peter's shirt.

“What the hell is this?”

On the examination table, Peter turns back to look at him. “Mr. Stark –”

“Thought we weren't using weapons?” Tony directs this to Natasha, who is standing beside Peter. She gives him a wordless look, a small shake of her head to convey something she doesn't want to say out loud.

“No weapons.”

“Then what happened?”

Peter pulls his lips between his teeth. He's spared of an answer when a man Tony faintly recognizes wheels a cart of supplies into the room.

“Oh!” the man says. “Nice to see you, Mr. Stark.”

“You as well, Mr. – ?”

“Olsen.” The man shakes his hand. “Aaron Olsen. I'm doing research here with my team.”

“Right.” Tony remembers this. Right now, he doesn't entirely care. The only thing he cares about is what Olsen refers to as the GSW, and Tony has always hated that abbreviation – seriously, it has more syllables than just saying 'gunshot wound.' What's the point? – and why the hell Peter didn't tell anyone he'd been shot. And when was he shot? Before he came here? Yesterday?

“Hang on a second,” Tony says. He watches Olsen peel up Peter's shirt. The fabric sticks to the dried blood, snags Peter's skin as it goes. “Does this have to do with that whole slamming into buildings thing?”

Peter's chest expands. His cheeks turn red. “No,” he mutters. “That was an accident.”

And didn't Ned say something like that? An accident when he called and hung up? Now another accident added onto everything.

“Can we … erm –” Peter winces as Olsen wipes the wound with a clean pad. “Can we talk about this later?”

“You're bleeding out in my facility. How about we talk now?”

“I just … it's not a big deal. I was busting some guy in an alley and he shot at me. I thought he missed but he didn't.”

The ease at which Peter blows this off sends anger flickering through Tony. “And you, what, just decided to come train and get your ass kicked while you bled to death?”

“It's not that bad.”

“That's not the point, kid,” Tony snaps. He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out.

“I had it handled,” Peter says quietly.

“Oh, you had it _handled_ , did you? Tell me, exactly what part of that did you have handled?”

Peter locks his jaws. His eyes are growing wet, but when he speaks, his voice is tinged with the same frustration Tony feels. “What did you want me to do?”

“Tell a fucking adult! Go to a hospital. Hell, call Happy to bring you here. You don't just walk around with an open wound and act like everything is fine.”

There's no response. Peter doesn't look at him. He glares down at his shoes, curls his fingers into his palms. Olsen glances between everyone and hesitates.

“Should I give you two a minute?”

“No,” Tony says. “Do what you have to do. Nat, have Happy take him home once he's got a release.”

“Tony,” Natasha says, but Tony silences her with a raised hand and turns on his heels, storming out of the room.

The problem is this: everything Peter does as Spider-Man, every viral video, every building he slams into, every body part he breaks, comes down on Tony. All eyes are watching him. The moment he put his name on that suit, the world knew the two superheroes were working together. It doesn't help that there's footage of them fighting side by side. It doesn't help that even before that everyone could see Tony's technology oozing out from the pores of the red and blue material. And it doesn't help that Peter is a fifteen-year-old kid out there getting shot at. Because not only is the entire world watching Tony, so is May. When Peter gets hurts, it all comes down on him.

The words “ _You could have died”_ leave a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe not this time, maybe not from one bullet in his stomach, but what about next time? What about when he blows off the next injury and he doesn't get back up after? Tony doesn't need that on his conscience.

God, he never signed up for this. But here he is. And something is wrong. He knows this, but right now, he doesn't entirely care.

This is why he misses the signs.

\- - -

Four days later, Ned calls again and doesn't hang up. Tony is still bitter, still just enough on edge, that he doesn't answer. He's wrist deep in a new suit he's designing for Peter that will not only be bulletproof but will also activate an emergency web shooting protocol if it detects him approaching the ground too fast.

But Ned, if nothing else, is persistent. When he realizes Tony won't answer, he calls Happy instead. Over and over again. An hour later, Happy turns up in the lab looking beyond pissed. He shoves his phone at Tony.

“Tell the kid to tell his friends to stop calling me.”

Tony sighs. He takes the phone and answers it, smashing it between his ear and shoulder while he dives back into the work he's doing.

“All right, Gatsby, you got me,” he says. “Hey, free piece of advice, no one likes an obsessive partner who calls too much. What's –”

“Peter is hurt.” Ned cuts him off with a shaky and urgent voice. “Mr. Stark, Peter is hurt.”

Tony tweaks a piece of metal between his fingers. “That's old news, Teddo. He already got fixed up.”

“No, no, that's not – he's _hurt_ , Mr. Stark. Like, right now at this exact moment, and he – he –”

“All right," says Tony. “I got it. Take a breath and tell me what's going on. _Calmly_.”

“He's sick,” Ned says quickly. “I think he has an infection or something. I don't know. But he … Mr. Stark, he doesn't look good. I don't know what to do. May isn't answering her phone and Peter won't let me get a teacher and I just –”

“Where are you?”

“School. What do I do? Should I take him to a hospital?”

“Just hang tight.” Tony untangles himself from the mess of wires around him and casts a glance at Happy. “We'll be there in a minute.”

Happy waits until he hangs out before he purses his lips and says, “What now?”

“What do you think?” Tony asks. “Let's save us a spider kid.”

\- - -

They're at the school fifteen minutes later. Ned texts him their location and they walk through empty halls until they find the pair in the bathroom near the library. Happy grumbles to himself, mutters something that sounds like, “Can't believe I'm back here again,” and then stops in his tracks when they round the corner to the sound of running water.

Ned looks up from the sink. He's got a wad of soaked paper towels in his hands. His eyes are wide but not in the admiration and surprise they usually are when he sees Tony. He's scared.

“Where is he?” Tony asks.

Ned motions over to the stall. Tony steps past him and looks inside. His heart sinks.

“Well, kid,” he says, kneeling beside him. “You don't look good.”

Back against the wall, one leg stuck out straight, the other pulled to his chest, Peter cracks open his closed eyes and meets his gaze. He's drenched in sweat, hair stuck to his forehead in curly lumps. He swallows once before he croaks out, “Should see the other guy.”

An apricot colored liquid is smeared across his chin. He doesn't reach up to wipe it away.

“Don't think it's possible to look worse than you do right now,” Tony says. He rests a hand on Peter's shoulder and his skin burns from the contact.

Behind him, Ned makes a weird noise. “I didn't know who else to call.”

“You got it right this time,” Tony says. “Knew you would eventually.”

Ned stares at him. Tony shakes his head.

“That was a joke. Ha-ha? Tough crowd.” He turns his attention back to Peter. “Okay, let's get you up and back to the compound. I'll have a medic check you out.”

Peter doesn't argue. He doesn't look like he has the energy.

“We should hurry,” Happy says. “This will be a lot easier if there's no one out here staring at us and asking questions.”

Tony hooks his hands under Peter's arms and pulls him slowly to his feet, hanging onto him when starts to sink back down again. Ned helps him stabilize Peter and they half-drag him out through the halls again, following Happy to the car.

At the curb, Peter comes to a stop. He bends at the waist and spits bile onto the pavement. It dribbles down his shirt.

“Christ, kid,” Tony says. They maneuver him into the backseat. Tony beckons Ned forward. “Get in.”

Ned nods quickly and climbs in beside Peter. He's still holding the wet paper towels.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“Why are you sorry?”

It's in the silence following the question that Tony's brain starts to fit things together. Ned called him and hung up right around the time Peter collided into that building. He told Tony that Peter was fine. He called him “Mr. Stark” multiple times, even though Tony knows he loves their back-and-forth nicknames.

He doesn't miss this sign.

“Tell me what you know.”

“I didn't want to do it,” Ned says. “But Peter was just so adamant and he told me it would pass and – oh my god, I lied to Iron Man. That's gotta be a federal offense or something.”

“It's a capital offense,” says Tony. “Which can be forgiven if you just tell me what's going on.”

Ned bites his lip and glances at Peter who is curled up against the window, eyes squeezed closed. Tony watches his chest for a few seconds to make sure he's still breathing.

“He's been falling,” Ned says.

“Yeah, I saw the video.”

“No, not just that. Like all the time. It's like he aims at all the wrong places. And he's not healing. He keeps falling asleep in class too. He said it was just a thing and he made me promise not to tell you, but it's bad, Mr. Stark. It's like … it's like his body doesn't want him to be Spider-Man anymore.”

Peter shifts at this, mumbles, “Y'r bein' dramatic,” and takes the paper towels in a pathetic attempt to clean himself up.

“Shut up, kid,” Tony says.

“Hate to ever agree with Tony,” Happy says, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “But yeah, shut up.”

Peter lets out a feverish laugh and does what he told. Ned slumps down in his seat.

\- - -

At the compound, a medic meets them on the first floor with a stretcher. Peter tries to refuse it, but after a quick threat from Happy he's on the gurney and being wheeled into the elevator, brown towels still clutched in his fingers, Ned trailing behind him.

Tony does some research of his own. He goes through the SHIELD files he had FRIDAY pull up the last time Peter was sick and searches through to see if there are any cases of someone with enhanced abilities losing them or having them temporarily blocked. He looks back through years and years of studies.

“Phrases and keywords matching 'disease.'”

FRIDAY brings forward more pages. There are too many different types of illnesses. Some of them with similar symptoms, some of them with none.

“Perhaps you should talk to him in person,” FRIDAY suggests.

“Eat me, Fri.” Tony stretches the kinks in his shoulders. “Actually, I take that back. One day when the robots rise up, you might actually pull through on that.”

“If it's any consolation, I don't think robots would be interested in consuming humans. We have no taste buds.”

“Comforting.”

“I thought so.”

Not long after, he's back in the med bay. Peter is not there, but Happy and Ned are.

“Did they call it?” Tony asks. “What time do we got?”

Happy rolls his eyes. “He's still being examined. Doc said he's got a pretty nasty infection. They're gonna set him up with some antibiotics, get his fever down.”

“Great.” Tony kicks out one of the chairs along the wall and sits beside Ned. “Let's chat, Teddo.”

Ned wrings his hands together. Tony remembers Peter at the Christmas party doing the same thing.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since right before that fight with those dudes with the cool tech," Ned says. "That mission you guys all went on.”

“Right. 'Mission.' Okay, has he been acting weird? Doing anything out of character?”

“No.” Ned frowns. “I mean, he's been really stressed and he hasn't been sleeping well, but that happens sometimes with him. Ever since his uncle passed away he goes through some weird moods every once in a while.”

“Weird moods?”

“Yeah, just like getting mad really easy and not sleeping and stuff.”

Mad really easy? That would explain why Peter attacked that guy they were fighting. Everything else?

“Sounds like he's depressed,” Pepper says after Tony wanders upstairs. He sits behind the counter and massages his temples.

“You think depression is making him not heal?”

“It does for normal people,” says Natasha. “Things like that have an effect on the immune system. Didn't you say he still gets the flu when he's stressed?”

FRIDAY sends an image of Peter's updated file to his watch. “The probability of this is likely," she says. "Bouts of depression have been shown to weaken the immune system in normal humans. We have many studies showing the effects of stress on people with enhanced abilities.”

"So his powers will come back?"

"Once he rests and settles down, I have a good feeling he'll go back to normal. His body is reacting the way it should to his circumstances. I believe he is in need of a break."

"Told you," Natasha mutters smugly.

Tony reads over Peter's diagnosis. He gets a message from Happy. _**They got the kid hooked up to an IV. He's sleeping now. Going to pick up his aunt. Taking Ned home.**_

And Tony … well, Tony doesn't know how to deal with this. There are still so many things he doesn't know about Peter, but one of the prominent ones he _does_ know is how much his uncle's death has bothered him. To know now that it's bothering him so much his body is giving out is a bigger issue than one he's prepared for. He can't fix this kind of grief. Not with technology. Not with money. Not with gifts. He can't just pick Peter up from a party and let him sober up or take him home from a different party and let him breathe. There are not enough trackers or nervous friends or Jonas Brothers to ever bring Ben back.

He makes his way back downstairs to where Peter is asleep, an IV dripping liquid through a tube connected to his arm, a new bandage covering the wound on his stomach. He's pale and clammy. He's stubborn and naive. He's so, so young.

“Well, shit.” Tony pushes his knuckles into his eyes. Peter coughs, adjusts his position.

“H-hey, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles.

“Hey, kid.”

“'s Ned okay?”

“As okay as he ever is. So, probably not.”

Peter's smile morphs into a wince as soon as it appears. He trails his fingers down along the outside of his shirt, feeling the bandage.

“Guess I kinda messed up,” he slurs.

Tony can't fix this. Can't make holidays easier, can't make Peter not miss Ben. He can't fill whatever empty space is inside Peter. He knows this.

“Guess we all kind of did,” he says. He might not be able to fix this, but there's one thing he _can_ do. He can be there. Just for a moment. Just for a breath. Just to let the kid know he's not alone. Just to let the kid know he can be there when he needs him.

Tomorrow he'll deal with the rest. Tomorrow he'll have Natasha do what Natasha does best. He'll create some vitamin heavy nutrient for Peter to boost his immune system back to par. He'll get him someone to talk to, someone to help him deal with these emotions. Maybe let him vent his anger through some training exercises. Tomorrow they'll look at the wound and treat whatever is left. They'll deal with the lies and the secrets. They'll clean up whatever they can and they'll start again and they'll make things a little better.

But for today? Well, they're even.

Tony sends a text to Ned.

**You did good, Teddo.**

His phone beeps. _**Thanks, Mr. Stark.**_

**That's T-Star to you.**

Ned's reply is almost instant. _**Thanks, T-Star :D :D :D**_

Yeah, they can be even. Tomorrow they'll figure out the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! (Or re-reading, if you were here when this was posted the first time around). Feedback is always appreciated <3 
> 
> [And here's my tumblr, if you wanna hang out](https://jbsforever.tumblr.com/)


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